Page 58 of Waiting for You

We both laughed.

"Did you ever want that for yourself?" I asked.

He paused, looking at me. "What do you mean?"

"You agreed to this fake-dating arrangement so easily," I observed. "My father's company, the introductions, all the leverage. Did you never want to find someone to love? Someone who loves you back?"

He went quiet, turning a piece of fruit in his fingers.

"I think romantic love is overrated," he said plainly.

"Overrated."

"Not worthless," he clarified. "It's a beautiful concept, to love someone and be loved back. I'm not dismissing it. But it's not what drives my life. I have big ambitions. I have a clear roadmap of what I'm building and where I'm going, and messy, unpredictable love doesn't factor into it." He met my gaze. "If it happened on its own, if you and I built a partnership and it turned into love along the way, I wouldn't fight it. But I'm not going to change my trajectory to chase a feeling."

I stared at him, taking in the honesty. Different people followed different maps of what made a life, and his was drawn with corporate precision.

I opened my mouth to respond, but someone dropped into the empty chair across from us.

It was Xavier.

Andrew looked at him in surprise. "I thought you were in the suite taking care of Eliza."

"She's asleep," Xavier answered. "I was bored." He glanced between us. "What are you two talking about?"

I did not want to summarize the conversation. But Andrew answered before I could redirect.

"Love," Andrew offered. "And whether or not it's a life necessity."

Xavier let out a surprised laugh. "Well, that's a heavy topic."

"Andrew thinks it's overrated," I supplied, dry.

Xavier turned his head to look at Andrew. "I don't disagree."

I stared at him. I didn't know what I expected him to say, but it wasn't that. I didn't expect him to agree with my fake boyfriend.

"Love is a beautiful concept people claim they want," Xavier theorized, his voice turning cold, "right until the cost of it shows up at their door. Sure, to love someone and be loved back, that's the best-case scenario. But is it something you should structure your whole existence around? Something you let obliterate the life you've built?" He gave a cynical shake of his head. "I don't think so."

"And the pain of it?" Andrew challenged, leaning his elbows onto the table, enjoying the debate.

"That's the fine print nobody reads early enough," Xavier countered, dark. "It's easy to look someone in the eye and say you love them. But can you survive being wrecked by them? More than once? Can you survive that pain again and again, still call it love, and refuse to call it psychological damage?" He stopped, then turned his head to look at me. "I tried it once. It didn't hold."

My throat turned to sandpaper.

"Maybe we should stop analyzing love," I cut in. "It's an exhausting, cliché topic. Let's talk about anything else."

"Like what?" Andrew laughed, his chin lifting, relaxed. "Should we play a game? Cards? Do these places even carry playing cards?"

"Arm wrestling," I blurted.

Both grown men turned their heads to stare at me.

"You want to arm wrestle?" Xavier asked, his eyebrow creeping up. "With us?"

"Not me," I clarified. "The two of you. I'll spectate."

They looked at each other across the fruit bowl.